


Hazy Mistakes

by MsChievous



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drunk Regis makes a mistake, Emphasis On the "Hurt", From M to E, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, So much angst, Trauma, accidental child abuse???, and asses, because there are dicks now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-02-14 03:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12998619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsChievous/pseuds/MsChievous
Summary: On the anniversary of Aulea's death, Regis has a little too much to drink and Noctis doesn't stand up for himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. So. A) I'm back home from college. It's been a rough semester, between a shitty professor and a shitty roommate situation, I've been feeling pretty drained the past couple months. So updates haven't been as frequent as I would have wanted. Hopefully being back home will help.
> 
> B) Because I'm back home, I can focus a bit more on fanfiction. After Christmas, I'll have a decent amount of time to work on it. I have been feeling kinda blah lately, but hopefully being back home will help me shake out of this funk!
> 
> Sorry for the rant, I just wanted to let y'all know what's been going on lately!

Parties usually weren’t Regis’ forte. But now, on the anniversary of his wife’s death, he wanted nothing more than to sit alone in his office, maybe have a dinner with his son. They haven’t done that in a while.

Instead, he was hosting a charity event for the victims of the Duscaen droughts. A noble effort, to be sure, but one that could wait a day or two until a more suitable date. 

However, the date had been set in stone months ago by people who hadn’t consulted him. So he was stuck shaking hands and forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes no matter how hard he tried.

“Majesty,” Clarus’ soft voice behind him made him pause in the middle of his latest glass of wine, “If you drink much more, I’m afraid you’ll try and do something unseemly.”  
“Tha’s rather th’ _point_ of getting drunk, Clarus.”

The Shield gave a soft laugh, “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t, and I believe we’ll be able to make it through the night.”

“Well, that begs the question, how many glasses of wine is  _ too many _ for you?” Regis asked, lips quirking with a genuine smile. He resisted flinging his arm around Clarus’ shoulders, like the good old days.

Clarus paused, tapping his finger against his chin and looking pensive. “That depends. How many have you had?”

Regis made a show of counting, wiggling his fingers and mumbling, “...hmmm, carry the two, an’…. one.”

“Gods, Majesty, the way you’re looking, I  _ might _ believe you if I didn’t already see you drink  _ eight _ ,” Clarus said sarcastically

“‘m I  _ that _ bad?”

Clarus paused, and Regis groaned. “Fine, fine, I’ll ‘esist th’ tem’tation…After thissss,” Regis picked a martini from a passing waitress and started sipping at it. 

“At this rate, I don’t believe you’ll be in any state to give a speech,” Clarus sighed.

“Y’ make tha’ soun’ like a  _ bad _ thing,” Regis replied, sipping the rest of his martini slowly. 

 

***

 

When Regis attempted to stumble down the steps to “mingle with the people”, Clarus corralled him back, pulling him into a corner. He was ready to commit treason and slap his king upside the head when a familiar voice asked, “Dad, you okay?”

Noctis had his hands in his pockets, but he looked at his father in concern. “Are… are you drunk?”

“Dunno, r’  _ you _ ?” Regis slurred.

“Gods, dad, go to bed,” Noctis rolled his eyes.

“Y’know,” Regis mumbled, “Soun’s like a gooooood idea.” He took a step forward, then almost toppled over before Noctis caught him. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, Dad, let’s get you out of here.”

“I can take care of His Majesty, if you wish to stay and mingle,” Clarus offered.

Noctis shook his head. “This is the best thing that’s happened today. You’d think helping my drunk father is a good excuse for ditching this party early?”

“Ah,” Clarus shook his head with a grin, “It appears we’ve had the same plan. Alas, I will leave him to you. I suppose  _ some _ one must give a speech.”

Noctis gave a deep bow, “Your sacrifice shall not go unanswered,” He said before breaking into a fit of giggles. “C’mon dad, let’s get you back to your room.” He nudged his father down a side exit and into the silent hallways.

Clarus sighed. Now he had to give a speech. 

_ Great _ .

 

***

 

Okay, maybe it had not been the best idea to lug his drunk father away from the party. Sure, it had seemed like a great way to sneak out of the party, but now he was forced to carry his father’s entire weight for fifteen minutes as he staggered down familiar hallways to the residential wing of the Citadel.

His father was mumbling something incoherent about his mother, running a hand through Noctis’ hair. Noctis’ heart twinged. He shouldn’t be surprised that his father was like this. He always preferred to grieve in private, but he hadn’t been given that opportunity today. He could do it later. Probably not tomorrow, with the hangover he was no doubt gonna have, but maybe the day after.

Noctis managed to corral his father into his room and set him down on the bed. He took off his father’s knee brace and detached his cape and jacket, setting them on the nearby armchair. With a smile, Noctis watched as his father fumbled with the bedsheets, tilting hard to the side when he tried to crawl underneath.

“Here,” Noctis said with a grin, tugging the sheets down and throwing them over his father’s legs. “Is that better?” He asks.

His father mumbled something else incoherent, ut smiled up at Noctis, and Noctis smiled back. 

“Well, then, I guess it’s good night,” Noctis turned to leave, but his father scrambled to grab onto his wrist. He missed, but Noctis stopped short all the same.

Regis patted the space next to him clumsily, mumbling something about Aulea.

Noctis’ heart broke. He knew his father missed his mother every day, but it was hard to see it now, when his father was at his most vulnerable. He slid under the covers next to his dad, enveloping him in a one-armed hug. “I bet you miss her, huh?” He asked.

Regis looked at Noctis with a soft smile, head lolling to the side. Then Regis’ arm slipped around Noctis’ waist, attempting to drag him closer as he mumbled Aulea’s name again.

Noctis allowed himself to be scooted closer to his father, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I miss her too,” He said, patting his dad’s shoulder lightly. “A lot.”

“Y’re s’ beau’ful, love,” Regis mumbled, resting his chin on Noctis’ shoulder, “Le’s ge’ you outta th’ dress.”

Ice shot through Noctis’ veins, and he tore away, staring at his father in abject horror. What the actual fuck? Was he so drunk that he thought Noctis was  _ actually  _ his mother? His father had chided him for his shoulder-length hair, but this was  _ ridiculous. _ “What are you-?” He started to yelp, but then caught a glimpse of his father’s dejected face, and a terrible thought rushed through him.

He was the reason his mother was dead. It was because of  _ him _ his father no longer had a wife. It  _ would _ be fair…

Noctis straightened himself, and Regis reached forward clumsily to lay a hand on Noctis’ stomach and trail it to his chest. “C’mon dear,” Regis’s face was so close Noctis could smell the red wine on his breath, “I kno’ y’ wan’ an heir.”

Noctis’ heart plummeted. He knew where this was going. He could stop it. He could get up, tell his father no, and go to sleep in his own room. But instead, he did his best to play along. He pitched his voice higher and said in a light, breathy voice, “Oh, I don’t know, you’re drunk, I don’t-”

“Y’know I  _ allllways _ wan’ you,” Regis slurred, “Relaaaass.”

“I-” Noctis tried to protest again, but Regis pressed his finger to Noctis’ lips with a soft shush, and then his lips enveloped Noctis’ in a kiss.

Noctis froze in shock. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t what a kiss was supposed to be like. His kisses with Prompto were always shy and quick. They would press together for a few moments, wrapped in each others arms, then pull away with nervous giggles to resume whatever they had been doing before one of them had been distracted by the others’ lips.

But his father was sloppy, opening his mouth and licking at Noctis’ closed mouth for entrance. Noctis forced himself to sit still as his father’s arms wrapped around his lithe frame, and his hands roamed down Noctis’ chest, over his stomach, and down to the waistband of his pants. 

Regis fumbled with the button, and for a few moments, Noctis thought he was in the clear. But then the button to his pants popped open, and Regis’ hand went lower.

 

***

 

Prompto groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He should be getting to bed, but he was  _ so close _ to the final boss. He just needed to level up a bit more, than he could take them on. 

He glanced to the side table when his phone buzzed, and looked at it curiously. It was a text from Noctis.

_ U up? Can I come over? _

Prompto glanced at the time. It was past midnight, Noct should have turned into a pumpkin by now. But, hey, if Noct wasn’t gonna sleep, then neither would Prompto. He shot back the affirmative before adding a “U ok?” as an afterthought. It wasn’t like Noctis to just ask to drop in like this.

But his phone buzzed again, and Noctis texted back  _ “yea” _ , which was probably more due to the late hour than anything  _ wrong _ with the prince. With a sigh, he leaned back in the futon and unpaused his video game. 

He had been playing for a while when he glanced at the clock and realized with a start that it had been an hour since Noctis had texted him, and there was no sign of him. It took Noctis around twenty minutes to get to his house.

Biting his lip, Prompto picked up his phone and tapped out,  _ where are u dude? _

He waited for ten minutes before he called. He held his breath as the phone continued to ring. Then, just before it would have gone to voicemail, there was a click, and Noctis’ voice responded dully, “Yeah?”

“Dude, where are you? I’ve been worried sick!”

There was another too-long pause, and a hum. “...dunno...,” He said.

This was odd, even for Noctis. “O-okay, do you, like, need me to come pick you up or something?”

“...mhm…”

Something twinged in Prompto’s heart. Yes, something was wrong. “Okay. Okay, I need you to look around for, like, a street sign or something,” He said, pausing his game and rushing around his house for his shoes. “Can you do that?”

There was a minute-long pause before Noctis said, “Cornal.”

“Cornal avenue?” Prompto asked. That wasn’t anywhere near where his house was. But Noctis hummed his assent, and Prompto reached for his helmet. This was going to take a while.

 

***

 

Prompto’s heart was pounding in his throat as he skidded to a stop along Cornal avenue. He called Noctis again, relieved to hear that he picked up again. “Okay, can you tell me anything else about the area where you are? Any buildings or signs?”

There was another pause. “Bench,” He said, then another pause. “Post office.”

“Okay, okay, I think I know where you are. Just stay there, okay? Just stay there.”

Noctis hung up without saying anything, which he hoped was a good sign. Prompto set off again, legs pumping with renewed vigor towards the post office along Cornal avenue. 

He skidded to a stop a little before reaching it, when he saw Noctis sitting on a park bench, staring at the ground with a dull expression on his face. The empty look in his face twisted Prompto’s stomach into worried knots. He scurried across the street and up to Noctis’ side.

“Hey, Noct! Are you okay?” He asked, heaving in scratchy breaths.

Noctis lifted his gaze up to Prompto’s face and a smile stretched over his lips, but didn’t quite reach his face. “‘ey Prom,” He managed, “I’m ‘kay.”

Prompto pursed his lips. “Okay. Well, let’s get back to my house. The buses are still running.” He took Noctis’ hand in his own, noticing with drawn brows how Noctis flinched away from the contact, then squeezed Prompto’s hand almost too tightly and got to his feet.

Prompto led Noctis down the street towards the bus line that would take them to the bus station, where they could get on the line that would take them to his house. As they waited at the bus stop, Prompto unzipped his jacket and held it out to Noctis, who was still staring at the ground. 

Noctis jerked upright when he saw the jacket in his periphery, then met Prompto’s concerned gaze and smoothed out his expression. He slid on the jacket and flicked the hood up so it obscured his face with a soft, “Thanks.”

Prompto nodded, tapping his foot until the bus pulled up. He motioned for Noctis to wait until Prompto had his bike secured to the front of the bus, then led him on, digging in his pocket for spare change to pay the prince’s fare, then swiping his own fare card into the machine. 

It took some time, but they found their way back to Prompto’s house. Prompto started to lead Noctis to the bedroom, but Noctis tried to tug out of Prompto’s grip. “No, I don’ need the bed,” He said, voice strained.

“O… um, okay. If you don’t want the bed, then, um, then let me just get the futon ready, okay?” He asked.

Noctis nodded, so Prompto dropped his hand and adjusted the futon so it was flat, then piled all of the throw pillows he had (which was a grand total of three) and a few extra blankets on top.

“There,” He said, slithering off the futon and motioning to it with a wide sweep of the arms. 

Noctis mumbled something unintelligible, then burrowed into the covers until nothing was left visible except a tuft of black hair at the very edge of the blanket.

Prompto’s fond smile twisted into a sad one as he sat on the armchair next to his boyfriend. Obviously, Noctis had gone through some shit. He hoped a good night’s sleep and a couple days’ break from the Citadel would help.

He just finished texting Ignis and Gladio that Noctis was at his house when he heard faint snores from the lump under the blankets that was Noctis. He got Ignis’ response a few seconds later and heaved himself to his feet, pressing a quick kiss into where he assumed Noctis cheek was. Then he shuffled into his room, where he stayed, looking at the ceiling and trying to think of how he could help Noctis.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis wakes up and Noctis spirals deeper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol guess what I almost forgot to post...
> 
> Things have definitely improved since last week, and I'm glad to be back home. I should be done with making presents by tomorrow so hopefully I'll be able to crank out another chapter by the weekend? And then start on Promdyn Week stuff and a Prompto Lucian labrat fic from the kinkmeme

Regis woke up, and  _ immediately _ regretted it. The lights were too damn bright, and his head was aching in that way that only wine-drunk can make you feel. He squinted his eyes shut with a groan, wondering, in the back of his head, why he wasn’t covered with a blanket. Or underwear.

“Majesty,” Clarus’ unimpressed voice cut through Regis’ hangover and forced his eyes open. His shield was looking at him, unimpressed. “Who did you take to bed, then?” He asked.

Regis glanced down in a pain-muddled haze to see that he was laying haphazardly on top of his sheets with his boxers around his ankles, died cum splotching his black comforter. He laid his head back with a groan and closed his eyes. “Unfortunately, no one,” He said, voice rough from a sore throat, “But I  _ did _ have a rather nice dream about Aulea.”

Clarus snorted. “I can see that,” He said, then he pressed something cool against Regis’ cheek. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is your hangover?”

Regis slit his eyes open and stared at the thing pressed against his cheek, a glass of water. “Somewhere around the thirty range,” Regis heaved himself into a sitting position, then grabbed the water.

“I imagine so,” Clarus said with a smirk. “You put yourself through your paces last night.” When Regis downed the water in a few gulps, Clarus pressed a potion into his king’s hand. Regis crushed that as well, and a muted relief settled through his head.

“Much better, thank you,” Regis muttered, swinging his feet over the edge of his bed. 

Clarus helped him over, then slid Regis’ boxers back up and handed him his clothes. “Your meeting is not for another few hours, but I figured you would want some time to sober up.”

Regis groaned as he hobbled into his clothes. “I appreciate the heads up, my dear friend. But perhaps next time you will allow me to sleep in and tell everyone I’ve come down with something,” He intoned.

Clarus bit back a smile and nodded. “Aye, Your Majesty.”

“However, since I am unfortunately awake,” Regis said, leaning on his cane as he started out the door, “I should talk with my son and see if he wants to join this conference. He’s an adult now, he should start to get a taste of what he’s inheriting.”

“Ah,” Clarus sighed, “My son says that he spent the night at his… his _friend’s_ house.”  
Regis pursed his lips. His first reaction was, _Oh, Six now he had to have_ that _talk with his son_ , then he sighed. “I understand. Come, I wish to sit in the gardens.”

 

* * *

 

When Noctis woke up, there were a few moments of disorientation where he didn’t know where he was, and he sat bolt upright, heart pounding through his chest. He snapped his head around and locked gazes with Prompto.

Prompto. Thank the gods. 

His heart rate slowed and breathing leveled out as he realized he was laying on Prompto’s futon. He was at Prompto’s house. He was safe.

“H-hey, Noct,” Prompto chuckled, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Noctis nodded back Prompto’s greeting, forcing a faint smile on his lips. “Hey yourself,” He responded.

“D-d’you want, like, something to eat or something? Or drink?” Prompto asked, jumping to his feet.

Noct shook his head. “Nah, I’m not hungry. Or thirsty,” He replied.

Prompto stopped short, staring at him as if trying to figure out a difficult puzzle.

“What’s wrong?” He demanded, gritting his teeth and keeping his gaze as level as possible.

“Noct, you’ve been asleep for more than twelve hours, and now you’re not eating?” Prompto asked, face the picture of concern. “Can you at least tell me what’s going on?” He pleaded.

Noctis shrugged, heart pounding in his chest. “Th-there’s nothing to  _ tell _ , Prompto, I was just tired, and now I’m just not hungry!” He managed to keep his voice from trembling, but only just.

Prompto let out a breath and sat down next to Noctis. Even though Noctis  _ knew _ Prompto wasn’t going to hurt him, that Prompto was  _ safe _ , his body betrayed him and flinched away from Prompto, but Noctis contained it to just his head.

“Okay,” Prompto sighed, leaning back on the futon. “So you’re fine,” he said, gazing into Noctis’ eyes.

Noctis couldn’t keep his gaze and looked away.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Prompto said, sliding a hand to Noctis’ shoulder and giving it a reaffirming squeeze. “Look, it’s okay. Let’s just… let’s just watch a movie or something, kay?”

He could do a movie. A movie would be fine. He nodded, twice, then waited for Prompto to flip on his television. He didn’t recognize the show Prompto had on, but it looked mindless enough, so he let himself relax. 

He just needed a good rest day, then he could go back to the Citadel, and resume his everyday life, and no one would be the wiser, he just-

Prompto’s hand slipped lower, rubbing along his arm, then down to rest on his hip.

Noctis couldn’t stop himself, he slammed his elbow into Prompto’s side, forcing them apart. He heard Prompto’s surprised grunt, but he was already scrambling away, heart threatening to pound right out of his chest.

He looked up and met Prompto’s surprised face. “I-I… I’m sorry, I just…” He trailed off, realizing he didn’t have a good explanation. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding, and he could barely suck in a full breath. Tears started creeping out of the corners of his eyes.

“Th-that’s okay, dude,” Prompto said, getting to his feet, “My bad, I just…” He looked at Noctis and bit his lip.

Noctis knew Prompto knew something was up. Normal people wouldn’t be freaking out right now about nothing at all. Normal people would be totally fine with letting their boyfriend touch them. He was not acting like a normal person, he  _ needed _ to convince Prompto it was all normal.

But his breathing hitched, and the tears were falling harder, and his legs were shaking with the effort of holding himself upright. He was failing at acting normal, and now Prompto was worried, and he was just a fucking failure, and-

And he was falling.

His legs his the edge of the futon, and his back and head cracked against the wall, leaving him momentarily stunned. When he managed to shake clear of the funk, he realized Prompto was in front of him, practically tearing his hair out in worry.

Noctis nudged him away, “I’m fine, I just…” His breath hitched in his throat. He was still breathless from the adrenaline, and now Prompto was worried, and he was reaching for his phone.

“No, just stay there, I’m going to call Ignis, and-”

“No!” Noctis jumped to his feet, lunging to grab the phone before Prompto can. But his knees are shaking so bad, and he can’t really see straight, so he just ends up in a heap on the ground. “Please, don’t,” He begs, still scrabbling for where the phone was.

If Prompto calls Ignis to say that something’s wrong, then Ignis will tell his father, and his father will ask him what’s wrong, and he can’t lie to his father’s face. His father  _ could not  _ know what he did, it would tear him apart.

“Okay,” Prompto’s voice was higher-pitched than normal, and Noctis could feel a sweaty hand feather across his arm. “Okay, I  _ won’t _ do that. Is that okay?”

Noctis knew Prompto was waiting for him to calm down, he  _ had _ to calm down. So he took deep breaths, trying to slow his frantically beating heart. He managed to calm down enough to force himself to his feet and to sit back down on the futon. “Yeah,” He managed.

“Okay…” Prompto sounded just as breathless as he felt. “Okay, that was… Okay, something is obviously wrong, and you don’t want to talk with me about it,” He said.

Noctis opened his mouth to deny it, but Prompto silenced him with a stare.

“That’s fine. You don’t need to share with me. But isn’t there, like, someone more you can confide in? Like, doesn’t the Citadel have a therapist or something?”

Noctis nodded. The Citadel does have a therapist, but he could hardly tell a _stranger_ about what his father did. Sure, they were sworn to secrecy, but could they keep _this_ secret?   
“Okay, so you can go to the therapist, and-”

“No.”  
Prompto’s faint smile faltered. “O-oh, no?” He asked.

“No,” Noctis repeated. 

“Cool, okay, so there’s no therapist... That… that limits the options. So we can talk. A-and you can talk to other people too! Like Iggy, and Gladio, and even your dad!”

“No!” Noctis’ voice cracked, and he couldn’t avoid a full-body flinch.

He could  _ hear _ the tension in the air as Prompto froze, staring at Noctis in what could be described as ‘horror’.

“Did something happen between you and your dad?” He asked.

Noctis closed his eyes, trying to will away the memory, but it bubbled up within him, inescapable. 

He wasn’t in Prompto’s house anymore, wasn’t on a futon, he was on an immense mattress, and his father is tugging his pants and underwear down, leaving him exposed.

“C’mon, dear,” His father slurred, “Don’ play coy wi’ me… I can’ do this by m’self.”

Noctis was considering just bolting, but… but his father was so earnest, and he sacrificed so much for Noctis to have a good life, and he deserved a good thing of his own, if just for one night. 

So Noctis helped his pants all the way off, setting them on the ground next to the mattress. When he turned back around, he saw his father scrabbling at his button, unable to work it in his drunken stupor. 

Swallowing the bile in his throat, Noctis reached forward and undid the button. Regis smiled at him and pressed another sloppy kiss to Noctis’ lips, and this time, Noctis let his father’s tongue into his mouth, half-gagging on the taste of bitter red wine.

Regis pulled away after just a few moments, trying to focus on Noctis’ face, but not quite succeeding. “Why don’ you turn ‘roun’ fer me?”

Noctis felt his heart pounding through his chest as he obeyed. He didn’t want this, not at all, but his father pressed slick hands into his ass, working him open, and he sounded so happy it was just a bit easier to ignore the sick sensation crawling through his skin.

Then, he felt something warm and hard at the cleft of his ass and he grit his teeth as his father pushed all the way in with a deep, shuddering groan that Noctis didn’t want to hear ever again. Then his father started to move, slow and awkward, and he pressed kisses into Noctis’ shoulder, and down his back.

It felt good but so  _ wrong _ at the same time, and he couldn’t hold back the tears as his father pounded him face-first into the mattress, moaning Aulea’s name as he snapped his hips one final time and came, pouring all his cum into Noctis’ ass.

Noctis stayed still for a moment, praying that it would be all over, but then Regis leaned forward and nipped at Noctis’ ear, with a look in his eye that Noctis didn’t really like. 

He didn’t want to be thinking about this, he needed to get away from here, oh gods, he just wanted to be back safe in Prompto’s house, away from his father and the Citadel, and parties…

 

* * *

 

Prompto watched in horror as Noctis started sobbing and tugging at his hair. He longed to reach forward and jerk Noctis’ hands away but figured that would cause more harm than good.

As Noctis came down from the panic attack, Prompto spoke to him in soothing tones about the game he was playing and how much Noctis would enjoy it and encouraging him to take deep, purposeful breaths.

Noctis obeyed him, silent save for the occasional sob as he started to shut out whatever painful memory he was repressing. 

More than anything, Prompto wanted to help Noctis, but he couldn’t do that without knowing what was wrong with Noctis, and Noctis seemed more than a little reluctant to talk about what was bothering him. So he just stood to the side as Noctis drained his water glass and handed it back to Prompto with a faint “Thanks.”

By the time Prompto got back from putting it away, Noctis was already asleep again. 

Holding his breath, Prompto placed the back of his hand gently on Noctis’ forehead. At the very least, he didn’t have a fever, so that was a sign his increased sleepiness could be due to whatever he’d gone through. 

Prompto sighed at got to his feet. Noctis had begged him not to call Ignis about this, sure. But what about Gladio? Or should he just call Ignis anyway? This seemed  _ waaaay _ over Prompto’s head, and Noctis needed the help.

No. Noctis had said no. So, as much as it pained him to do it, he forced himself to tuck his phone away and wish Noctis a good night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: I am not a therapist and have no experience in this area. I did research into psychological conditions. That being said, if something seems off to you, just let me know! I'm always happy to learn more!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto tries to get Noctis some help, but it doesn't quite work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, sorry about missing last week. Work has absolutely knocked me on my ass, and between that and redecorating my room, I've been _hella_ busy. But I had an opportunity to get a huge chunk of writing done, so regular updates should be a thing now???
> 
> I have about two more chapters planned, but I'm also doing Promdyn Week, so there might be a few delays there...

Regis tapped his finger on the tabletop, glancing at the fancy meal laid before him. “And you’ve heard nothing from him?” He asked Clarus.

Clarus shook his head.

Regis paused for a beat. It was unlike Noctis to miss their weekly dinners. Ever since they had started the tradition when he was twelve years old, they made it a point to guard their time together with zeal. The last time Noctis missed a dinner was when he came down with the flu, nearly two years ago, and Ignis had informed Regis of the change of plans ahead of time.

“Call Ignis here. Perhaps he knows where Noctis is,” Regis said, trying to swallow down the irrational panic that whispered that Noctis was in danger.

Clarus obeyed, and after a tense fifteen minutes, Ignis poked his head through the heavy double doors.

“You called, Your Majesty?” He asked with a low bow.

“Yes,” Regis said, “Do you know where Noctis is?”

Ignis looked up in surprise. “I… I don’t. I thought,” Ignis furrowed his brows, then cleared his throat. “I believed that he made his way from his friend’s house to here for your dinner, but evidently I was wrong.” Regis could hear the slight tremor in Ignis’ voice and forced a light smile for the boy’s sake. “I-one moment, if you will?”

Regis nodded, and Ignis stepped back out the doors, pulling out his phone. Through the walls, Regis could hear Ignis murmuring, trying to call his son, but as minutes passed, and Ignis’ tone grew louder, Regis couldn’t help but think of the worst-case scenarios: His son was kidnapped, or hurt, or worse, and he needed help, but no one was there to give it to him.

He held his breath when Ignis re-entered the room, doing his best to hide faint trembles. “He… He is at Prompto’s house. Still. Prompto said that he ‘needed time’,” Ignis explained.

“Time?” Regis asked, tilting his head to the side, “What for?”

Ignis pressed his lips together into a thin line. “I’m not exactly sure, that was all Prompto said.”

Regis sighed, then dismissed Ignis with a wave of his hand and soft ‘thanks’.

“Come now, Regis,” Clarus soothed, “It’s likely not something you did. He’s getting to that age where children don’t very much like their parents.”

“I had hoped to _avoid_ that period,” Regis templed his fingers and focused on the lovely braised chickatrice that was now going cold.

“Let me stop you there. There is no ‘avoiding that period’,” Clarus said, “I can say with absolute certainty that Iris is honestly the _worst_. She’s 13 and spends more time with her friends than she does at home. Gladio was slightly better. He at least knew he had a duty. But he still avoided me, did his own thing. It’s what children do. And you have to let them explore for themselves.”

Regis closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into his palms. “Bahamut give me strength, I am not ready for this.”

 

* * *

 

Prompto stared at Noctis as the prince tried to pretend like everything was okay. But he was sitting on the other end of the futon, legs crossed at the ankle and drawn up to his chest, and his arms wrapped around his knees. Dark circles under his eyes revealed his lies about getting enough sleep.

With a sigh, Prompto paused the game and put his controller in his lap, turning to face Noctis. “Okay Noct, talk to me. Something is wrong, and I want to help you. Talk to me.”

Noctis just forced that smile of his and shook his head. “I’m fine,” He said, voice forced.

“It’s obviously _something_ , dude. I can recognize the signs of depression, dude,” Prompto stared at Noctis hard.

Noctis laughed, but that, too, was forced. “I’m not _depressed_ ,” He scoffed.

“Really?” Prompto demanded, “‘Cause I know you’re not sleeping, and I can hear your nightmares, and-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Noctis snapped.

Prompto pursed his lips but didn’t pursue the matter when Noctis turned off his controller and curled up against the side of the couch. He just let Noctis watch as he battled through hoards of monsters. He glanced to the side before he went to attack the final boss and noticed Noctis was snoring.

A smile quirked on Prompto’s lips and he resisted the urge to take a video, despite how cute Noct’s little snores were. He turned back to his game and entered the boss fight. It was about as fucking difficult as he expected, even with all the incessant grinding, but he was making good progress when he heard Noctis mumble something in his sleep. He glanced over at his boyfriend and was rewarded with a slash from the boss that cost him nearly half of his life points. He grit his teeth and dodged away from the boss’s next attack. He had to be careful, he couldn’t afford to-

Noctis mumbled louder, more frantic this time, and Prompto quickly paused the game. “Hey, Noct?” He asked, hand hovering a fair distance from Noctis’ shoulder. “Buddy, you okay?”

Noctis jolted awake, eyes wide and glassy, breath bordering on hyperventilation. He stared up at Prompto like the blond wasn’t even there.

 

* * *

 

Noctis stared into Prompto’s face, but there was something between them, some…. _fog_ or something, changing and distorting Prompto’s appearance so it looked nearly unrecognizable. He couldn’t quite process _how_ Prompto was unrecognizable, he just… was.

In fact, everything around him felt fake, like props in a television show he was watching. He could hear what Prompto was saying, but it felt muffled and odd like his voice was coming from underwater. It was a weird, muffled period of time where he felt both like he was floating, and everything around him was just static. It felt so wrong, but it was hard to think around the numbness encasing his brain.

He didn’t really know when the feeling started to abate, but slowly, the fog started to drift away, things felt more solid beneath him, and Prompto’s voice floated into his ears, less muffled now.

Finally, the fog had completely dispersed, and he felt back to normal, save the lingering knot of worry that something was really _really_ wrong with him.

“N-n-Noct, buddy, you okay?” Prompto looked concerned, brow knitted together and fingers running through his hair.

Noctis could see Prompto’s hands trembling even from this distance and hated himself. He was worrying Prompto, he was making a big deal out of this, this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I’m fine,” Noctis said, throat oddly scratchy.

“N-no you’re not, dude,” Prompto said, “What the hell was that? You were acting really weird, dude!”

Noctis shrugged. “I just… I dunno, had a weird moment. It’s no big deal.”

“That was more like a weird fifteen minutes, but sure,” Prompto huffed. His hands were still trembling, and his breathing had picked up. Fuck, he was still worrying Prompto, he had to make this better. He held his breath and wrapped his arms tight around Prompto’s shoulders, ignoring the bile creeping up in his throat. He just had to hold on and ignore the pounding of his heart.

But the world around him shifted, and suddenly the tentative arms around him weren’t Prompto’s, they belonged to Regis, and the cock throbbing between his asscheeks also belonged to Regis, and the arms were lowering him down onto the cock, so gently.

It was terrible.

“Hav’ a ‘ice ride,” Regis grunted, breathless as his arms lowered Noctis all the way down and paused, giving Noctis time to adjust. In the meantime, Regis leaned back and let his hands roam over Noctis’ body. Down his arms, across his stomach, up to his chest. One of his hands starts to move down again while the other stays where it is, rubbing against one nipple.

“Y’u’re takin’ me s’ well,” Regis said with a grin, pressing a kiss to Noctis’ stomach. “I lov’ y’ s’ much.”

A thrill of pleasure shot through Noctis’ body as his father’s dick grazed his prostate and he had to clamp down on a confused moan. Why was his body _liking_ this, it was _terrible_! He shouldn’t be getting off on this!

But his own dick was hardening between his legs, and he hated how much he liked it, how _good_ it felt.

“Y’ feel s’ good, Aulea, I lv’ you s’ much.”

Regis’s gentle hands caressed his sides, and he couldn’t hold back tears. He was feeling so good, and Regis was being so gentle and loving, but he _hated_ it so much. He had waited for Prompto, but he had waited too long, and he had fucked everything up and-

He felt Regis’ cock pulsing inside him, thrusting his hips faster and faster until a wet warmth flooded his ass and Regis sank back into his bed.

Noctis paused, praying that his father would finally be done and he could sneak away, but Regis interlaced their fingers and brought Noctis’ hand up to his lips. “You’re takin’ me s’ well. Le’s to th's allllll nigh’ lon’.”

 

* * *

 

Prompto tentatively wrapped his arms around Noctis’ trembling frame, taking deep breaths to slow his heartbeat. If Noctis couldn’t be calm, he would have to be calm in Noctis’ stead.

Not the best job for him, but he could do it. He could do it.

He traced a pattern across Noctis’s back, murmuring, “It’s okay, I’m here, you’re safe,” over and over again. But the panic didn’t seem to be going away. If anything, the longer Prompto held Noctis, the worse he seemed to be shaking, and the louder his breathing became until Noctis pushed himself away with a shout.

Prompto watched, dumbstruck, as Noctis collapsed in a heap on the floor, sobbing and mumbling some nonsense. He moved forward to comfort Noctis, then thought better of it. Noctis didn’t seem to react well to touch right now. So he backed away slowly, towards the kitchen, making sure he could still clearly see Noctis as he put a kettle on the stove.

The kettle boiled and the tea steeped in the time it took Noctis to stop crying and resume a level breathing pattern.

Prompto poured the lukewarm tea into a cup and handed it to Noctis. The cup slid out of his grip, spilling over his legs and Prompto’s futon. But Noctis didn’t even flinch.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled, “I’m just stupid.”

“Okay, no.” Prompto moved to clear away the teacup and mop up the tea from his carpet. “No, you’re not stupid. Please, Noctis,” Prompto begged trying to catch Noctis’ eye, “Please tell me what’s going on. I _promise_ I won’t tell anyone!”

Noctis paused, biting his trembling lip. He looked like he wasn’t going to say anything for a few moments, then the tears spilled over. Thin frame wracked with sobs, Noctis curled in on himself, burying his head between his knees. He stayed like that for a worrying amount of time, then lifted his head.

“I’m so sorry,” He said through hiccups, “I- I wanted it to be _you_. I wanted my- wanted my first time to be with _you_ , but I… but I waited too long, and, and I’m _sorry_ , please!”

Prompto stared at Noctis for a long moment, trying to puzzle out what Noctis was saying. Did… did Noctis _cheat_ on him? But just as quickly as he thought of that, he dismissed the idea. These weren’t the actions of someone who just cheated on someone. These were the actions of someone who…

Prompto felt his heart drop to his stomach, and he had to hold himself back from touching Noctis. “I- _fuck,_ Noct- that…” He stumbled over his words. What should he say? What _could_ he say? “No, please don’t be sorry, I don’t _care_ about that. I just… I mean, it’s a really nice sentiment, I appreciate it, but… but I _love_ you. Like, a whole lot. And I wanna _help_ you. Because I love you. _Nothing_ will ever change that, I _promise_ ,” He said.

Noctis was crying even harder now, fingers scrabbling for purchase in his hair.

“Can… can I touch you?” Prompto asked.

Noctis nodded, and Prompto grabbed his hands, holding them away from his body.

“Squeeze my hands, okay? As tight as you want. Just don’t… don’t hurt yourself like that.”

The hands draped over his tightened with a sudden ferocity, and the tears returned with renewed vigor. He just let Noctis cry and clutch at his hands, repeating comforting phrases to help Noctis calm down.

Fuck, he really wasn’t qualified to deal with this. Noctis needed to _talk_ about it. With, like, a professional or something. Or maybe Ignis, Ignis would know what to do. And they could tell Noctis’ father-

He stiffened as he remembered Noctis’ near- _fear_ of his father. It couldn’t be… could it.

Noctis must have noticed Prompto’s movement because the sobs subsided.

Should he tell the truth? Did he even want to know if the _king_ was a rapist, nevermind one who raped his _son_? But Noctis was looking at him, he had to say something. “I… you said, um… did… your _dad_?” He managed.

Face falling, Noctis ducked his head back between his knees again, crunching Prompto’s hands in a vice-like grip. “He… he didn’t- didn’t mean to. He was… really drunk, and he thought I was m-my mom, and he… and I - I’m the reason he can’t be with her, and he was… he was really nice, and I j-just…” Noctis trailed off, voice shaking with the effort of staying level.

He hadn’t explicitly said yes or no, but… but _shit_. “Fuck, Noctis…” He breathed, “You need, like, _therapy_ or something. Please.”

Noctis raised his head, eyes puffy and rimmed with red. “No, I-I’m fine.”

"You’re breaking into panic attacks whenever someone touches you, Noct. That’s not ‘fine’,” Prompto said.

“I’m not having a panic attack!” Noctis shouted, shoving Prompto away from him. “I’m fucking _fine_.”

Prompto stared at Noctis. “Noctis, it’s not a big deal. You don’t have to tell anyone other than me. But please, if you get help, you might be able to get better.”

Noctis didn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll think about it,” He said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis gets help and Regis finally realizes something is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT I TOTALLY FORGOT TO UPLOAD
> 
> I'm so sorry, I've been living in a constant state of "idk what day it is" for the past week or so. Work has also been a bitch so there's that. I'm going back to college at the end of the week, so we'll see how time works. It seems like it's gonna be a busy time, but who knows?

Regis sighed and steepled his fingers. “Do you suppose it’s something I did?” He asked, staring at his son’s seat across from him, empty for the third week in a row.

“Perhaps you vomited on him when he escorted you to bed?” Clarus suggested with a wry grin.

Regis snorted. “Perhaps,” He said, “Or perhaps this is his way of saying he would prefer to live on his own?” He pursed his lips. “I’ll have to discuss it with Ignis and his uncle.

“Honestly,” Clarus cut in, “At this point, I believe it might be a test of some sort. Like how much you actually “care” about him. Giving him this space might be the opposite of what he wants.”

 “Then,” Regis sighed, “I must discuss that with Ignis and his uncle as well. In the meantime, I have a large meal, but I’m lacking someone to share it with. Won’t you join me?”

 

* * *

 

Prompto kept his hand loosely intertwined with Noctis’, chattering about the video game he had just finished playing. He knew Noctis wasn’t listening, not really, but it kept up the appearance of the relationship they had, so he kept the smile plastered on his face as he ducked down a side entrance that led to the medical wing.

“And then turn left here,” Noctis murmured.

Prompto obeyed, continuing to chatter as if he wasn’t half-dragging a shell of Noctis around the Citadel. He stopped them in front of a pair of frosted-glass doors and glanced at Noctis. “You ready?”

Noctis looked like he was about to be sick, but nodded anyway.

“Okay,” Prompto responded, then pushed the doors open.

T he receptionist behind the front desk glanced up as she welcomed them to the Citadel counseling services. To her credit, she hid her surprise at seeing the prince standing in front of her well, but Prompto saw it for a second before it was wiped away behind a mask of professionalism.

 “How may I help you?” She asked softly.

 For a moment, Noctis tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat, so Prompto stepped in.

 “Um, I’d like to set up an appointment for, um, for my friend… please?” He managed.

The receptionist's brows furrowed but disappeared in the blink of an eye. “Of course. What times work best for you?” She asked.

Noctis just shrugged, “Whatever.”

“Okay, then Dr. Elmaro, Dr. Tyar, and Dr. Borans all have openings for weekly appointments.”

“A-are... “ Noctis trailed off, then, at Prompto’s gentle nudging, continued, “Are any of them female?”

T he receptionist nodded. “Dr. Tyar is.”

“Th-then her. Please,” Noctis said.

The receptionist nodded. “Does Saturday at 5 work for you?”

Noctis returned the nod jerkily, and the receptionist smiled.

“Great! Would you like me to print out a physical reminder for you, or do you think you can remember on your own?”

After a moment, Noctis shook his head and turned to walk back out of the door.

Prompto quickly followed after him, waving his thanks to the receptionist.

The prince walked through the hallways until they came to his room. He swung the door open and stepped through, but stopped short at the sight of Ignis there, bent over to pick up a shirt from the ground.

 Ignis immediately straightened, glancing from Prompto to Noctis in surprise. “Highness! I- I didn’t expect you- I apologize, I didn’t finish cleaning your room. But-”

“‘S fine,” Noctis mumbled, shrinking back behind Prompto so minutely, he probably wasn’t aware of it. “I don’t care.”

Ignis looked at Noctis, really looked, and then glanced at Prompto, then back to Noctis. His expression smoothed to the same neutral professionalism the receptionist had, and he cleared his throat. “If there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Noctis waved him away with a vague, “yeah, yeah,” but Ignis stood his ground.

“Anything at all,” He intoned, then turned to start folding Noctis’ clean clothes.

There was a slight pause before Prompto ushered Noctis to the couch and started setting up a video game to play. He handed Noctis a controller, though he didn’t turn it on, and sat on one end of the couch. Noctis sat close to him, half on top of him. Prompto was confused for a moment but then realized the prince was only putting on a show of comfort so Ignis wouldn’t worry about him.

Prompto had to restrain himself from touching Noctis comfortingly and instead fixed him with a faint smile.

Ignis quickly finished folding Noctis’ clothes and bustled out of the room with a hamper full of dirty clothes.

The moment the door clicked shut, Noctis practically threw himself away from Prompto. He met Prompto’s gaze and looked away with a muttered apology

Prompto just forced a smile and turned back towards the game.

 

* * *

 

Regis steepled his fingers, staring at the roast duck in the middle of the table like it had personally offended him.

A gentle hand pressed against his back and he glanced at its owner. “Clarus, sorry. Did you say something?”

Clarus pursed his lips. “You seem distracted. And you’ve barely touched your food. Is something the matter?” He asked.

“It’s Noctis. He hasn’t shown up for our meetings in weeks, and when I’ve seen him around the Citadel he seems…. off… and he won’t tell me anything. I’m worried about him, Clarus.” “Well, Your Majesty, we have several well-trained counselors available. I’m sure family relations might be different from what they’re expecting, but they might help.”

Regis pondered this a moment. “Yes, I do believe you’re right. We still have the child psychologist on call?”

Clarus nodded.

“Then come,” Regis said, getting to his feet, “I will make an appointment right away.” He turned to a nearby servant. “If my son makes his way here, tell him to wait and I’ll be back within the hour.”

The servant nodded, and Regis swept out of the private dining hall towards the medical wing.

“If it’s any consolation, Your Majesty, I don’t believe this is an unusual occurrence for adolescents. They all tend to avoid their parents, to hole up in their rooms, and the like. But I’m sure the counselors will be able to better console you.”

“I’m not so sure. Noctis has never been like this. He’s always gone to me for help, and he’s only missed our dinners once.”

Clarus fixed Regis with a look. “Gladio was the same way. And Iris is shaping up to be going along that route as well. Six… especially Iris, it seems.”

Regis nodded. “Perhaps I am making a bigger deal out of this than I should,” He sighed.  “All the same, I would still prefer to talk it over with someone who might be able to help.”

Stepping ahead of his king, Clarus opened the thick frosted-glass door and waited for Regis to pass through, then let the door swing shut behind him.

The receptionist behind the desk looked up at them with a tentative smile. “Hello,” He said softly, “How can I help you?”

Regis smiled to put the other man at ease. “Hello, I’d like to schedule an appointment with… Oh, Clarus, what was that doctor’s name?” Regis asked. The name was slipping at the edge of his memories, and he couldn’t quite remember it. “It began with an “E”, didn’t it?”

“Doctor Elmaro?” The receptionist asked.

“That’s it,” Regis said. “Yes, I would like to make an appointment with him as soon as possible.

The receptionist clacked for a few moments. “There’s an opening for tomorrow at noon if that’s soon enough for you?”

Regis nodded his assent.

“Very well. Would you like a physical reminder of your appointment, or do you think you can remember?” The receptionist asked.

“Son, at my age, I can barely remember what I had for breakfast. A physical copy would be lovely.”

There was a snort, and the receptionist covered his mouth with a hand to hide the smile. “Yes, your Majesty,” he said. He tapped a few keys on the keyboard, and then the printer spat out a half-sheet of paper that he handed over the counter.

“There," the receptionist said, “The date and time are printed there, and we can send a reminder e-mail an hour before your appointment if you would like.”

Regis waved his hand. “That would be unnecessary. I will-“

Regis was cut off as one of the thick wooden doors labeled “Tyar” swung open, and a familiar figure stepped out, glancing back into the room, smiling faintly.

“Noctis?” Regis asked in disbelief.

His son whirled around, tentative smile dropping immediately, and face paling in fear. Regis searched his face, trying to decipher what could possibly be wrong.

But Noctis’ face broke into a fragile smile and he nodded before bolting out through the main doors.

Regis stared after him for a few moments, debating whether or not to go out after him. On the one hand, if he wasn’t telling his father anything, then it was likely he didn’t want his father to pry.

But then Clarus’’ words jangled around his head, about this being a test of some sort, about Noctis silently crying for help, and he quickly excused himself.

A Crownsguard was a few feet away from the door, staring down the hallway she had presumably just come down. A look of confusion was written all over her face.

“Did my son just go down that way?” He asked.

The Crownsguard snapped her head around to face him, then nodded with a slight bow. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said.

With a soft thanks, he made his way down the hallway, followed at a distance by Clarus.

He almost passed the alcove where Noctis had tucked himself into, but stopped short at the faint sound of snuffling and muffled heavy breathing. Cautiously, he peered into the alcove.

Noctis was curled in the corner, just underneath the elegant sill of a window, clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle whatever noises he was making.

Something in his chest twinged at the thought of Noctis hiding the pain from him, and he shuffled closer to Noctis like his son was a skittish stray that needed to be treated for an injury.

At the sounds of someone coming closer, Noctis’ head snapped up, and he met Regis’ eyes with panicked blue ones, so much like his mother’s it hurt.

“Dad!” Noctis’ voice cracked awkwardly, and he jumped to his feet. It took a few moments for Noctis to smooth his features down into something resembling composure, and even then, his eyes were red and puffy, and he kept fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I was following you, son. You seemed to be upset just then. Would you care to tell me what it’s all about? Perhaps I  can assist in some way?” He suggested.

Noctis shook his head, “No! No, there’s nothing the matter! I…. I’ve just been…I’ve been really busy, and it’s no big deal, you shouldn’t worry about me!” 

Regis reached out towards his son in an attempt to comfort him, but Noctis flinched away, then pushed past him.

“S-s-sorry, gotta go!” He called behind him as he ran away.

With lingering dread settling in the pit of his stomach, Regis watched him retreat around a bend in the hallway, then turned to Clarus.

“What was all that about?” Clarus asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Regis furrowed his brows. “I’m not sure, but I don’t like it,” He murmured. “You said that my son spent the night of the party at his friend’s house, correct?”

Clarus nodded, “According to Gladio, that is correct.”

“Then we must pay the young man a visit,” Regis said, striding towards the main hall that would lead to the main entrance and exit. “Call for an undercover car.”

“What for?”

“Undoubtedly, Prompto knows what has happened to Noctis, and I intend to get to the bottom of this whole affair.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis confronts Prompto and gets an unfortunate answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyyyy, this thing is finally done! It took way to long to complete, I'm sorry, I suck, lol. Next I'm working on a fic for the winner of my follower giveaway from my Tumblr, then it's on to the next one! I'm not quite sure what that one will be, but rest assured, Prompto will suffer. ^.^

Prompto was just cleaning up from his late dinner when he heard a knock on the door. He glanced at the clock. Someone visiting him at 6:30 on a Saturday evening? He didn’t know who it could be and was fully prepared to leave them waiting on the patio when he remembered Noctis’ therapy session got out a half hour ago. Even though he normally called first, he wasn’t quite in a good state of mind.

So Prompto abandoned his washcloth and hurried over to the door, glancing through the peephole. He had to do a double take when he caught a glimpse of the figure on the other side of the door, and he quickly unlatched the lock and swung the door open.

“Y-you Majesty! I- I, um, hel… hello. Come in, please! Yes, come in.” He stepped aside as King Regis and Clarus Amicitia stepped through the doorway into his house.

The king of Lucis was in his house. Shit. What should he do? What did people do with guests?

“Oh! Would you like some water? Or maybe some juice or something?” He offered, leading them to his living room.

“Please, don’t worry yourself. I was hoping to have a little talk with you if you’re not too busy?

Prompto’s heart dropped to his feet and he choked back a whimper. “T-talk? About what?” Please don’t be here about what I think you’re here for, please Bahamut.

The king just gave a sad sigh. “I need to know what’s going on with my son. He’s been… different since the anniversary of his mother’s death, and I want to know what happened, so I can help him.”

Well shit. How was he going to break this to the king? Would the king believe him? Would he have Prompto killed to keep him quiet? Would he do it himself?

He managed to slow his heartbeat as he nervously gestured for the king and Clarus to sit down.

The king took the offered seat on the futon, and Clarus remained standing, so Prompto dragged a kitchen chair over and settled it across from the king.

“It… It wasn’t anything big or anything, he’s just been feeling a lot of pressure, from like, ruling and stuff, and like-“

The king held up his hand. “Please, Prompto. You’re a poor liar, no offense, and I just want to help my son. I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Prompto felt his cheeks flush, and then something like jealousy claw up his throat. Here he was, sitting with a father figure who cared so much about his son, he was willing to take time out of his day to figure out what was wrong with said son, while his own father was away on yet another “business trip” with some attractive young “coworker” for another few months.

He swallowed that feeling and bit his lip. “I…. um, I can make some tea…. Probably lavendar….” He quickly shuffled over to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove. He tried to linger in the kitchen as long as possible, to prolong the inevitable, but he knew he had to spit it out sooner rather than later, so he trudged back to his seat.

Shit. Now he had to tell the king he raped his son. Fuck.

“I, um… so, like, Noctis… he said, um…” Prompto furrowed his brow and scratched the back of his head. “Um, he said he was helping you to bed, and he said… I mean, he knew you were drunk and confused, but, um… he…” Prompto could see the confusion on the king’s face and swallowed, “He said you… mistook him for your wife, and… and, um…” Prompto glanced down as he trailed off.

He could just imagine what was going through the king’s head, but he heard the moment everything clicked. The king gave a choked gasp, and then there was a sharp cry from Clarus.

Prompto glanced up just in time to watch the king collapse to the side before Clarus caught him and arranged him on the futon.

“Bring a damp cloth and lay it across his forehead,” Clarus ordered, bending Regis’ legs and starting to push them from side to side.

Scrambling to obey, Prompto grabbed a clean cloth from the cupboard and dunked it under a stream of tap water, then shoved it into Clarus’ hands. It was only a few more minutes before Regis started to stir, then only a minute before he was sitting upright, rubbing his temple with a shaky hand.

“I….I had no idea, I th….I thought…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “How… how do I face him? How do I face anyone?” He murmured, clutching at Clarus’ arm.

The whistling kettle saved him, and he dashed into the kitchen to pour the tea into the nicest tea cups his family owned.

As he took it to the living room, he realized the king was actually crying, right on his futon.

Holy shit, the king was crying.

He nervously skirted forward, trying to both offer tea and be as invisible as possible.

Regis accepted the tea, slowing the tears long enough to take a few sips before he had to place the cup on the coffee table to keep from spilling it as fierce sobs racked his body.

Prompto grabbed a box of tissues from the bathroom, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut that told him he made the wrong choice. He knew Noctis wouldn’t have wanted him to tell anyone, and now the king of Lucis was sobbing on his futon. He should have just kept his damn mouth shut.

But it was too late now. The king was slowing down his tears, and Prompto ran cool water over the washcloth for him to press over his eyes to reduce the puffiness.

Once the king had fully composed himself, Clarus ushered him away and back into the sleek slate-blue car that had been idling in the driveway the entire time.

With that bitter feeling still in his chest, Prompto watched the car peel away and take off towards the Citadel.

***

Regis relaxed back into the plush seat of the car. He tried to make small talk with Clarus, but every time he tried to form words, his throat seemed to close up around them and swallow them back down.

In turn, Clarus placed a hand on Regis’ shoulder and squeezed. “You’ll get through this,” He said, voice low.

Regis wasn’t so sure.

 

***

Clarus was kind enough to help him back to Noctis’ room but wisely stepped away when Regis knocked.

The door creaked open, and Ignis peered out. “Are you here for Noctis?” He asked softly.

Regis nodded. 

“He’s asleep right now. I can wake him up if you-”

“Oh, no,” Regis waved off the offer. “Let him rest. Just please let me know when he’s awake.”

Ignis nodded and closed the door quietly. 

With a sigh, Regis walked over to a nearby bench and sat down. His mind raced with thoughts. What was he going to say to Noctis? How could he apologize? Would Noctis even forgive him? 

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but the sun had lowered on the horizon, and he had to scoot away to avoid the sun’s beams in his eyes. As he finally settled himself again, Ignis exited Noctis’ room, head down, and thumb tapping over his phone. He glanced up as Regis’ cane tapped against the floor, then quickly pocketed his phone. 

“Y-Your Majesty, I didn’t expect you to- Noctis is awake if you wish to speak with him. But, he’s not… He’s not been himself lately.”

“I understand,” Regis replied. Then he waited for Ignis to walk away before knocking on the door.

“Y’ don’t need to knock, Iggy,” The dull tone of Noctis’ voice sent a stab of guilt through Regis’ heart.

“It’s me, Noct,” He replied.

There was a thud from the other side of the door like Noctis had fallen out of bed. “D-dad!” Noctis’ voice was pitched higher, now. “Come in!”

Regis eased the door open, motioning for Clarus to stay back. “Hello, son. Do you have a moment to talk?”

Noctis’ eyes looked like an anak caught in the headlights, but he nodded, twisting the hem of his shirt. “Y-yeah. What about?”

Regis nodded for his son to sit down as he himself dragged a desk chair closer and eased himself down. He took a moment to steel himself, then looked right at Noctis. “My son, I am so, so,  _ so, _ sorry.”

“What are you talking about? You didn’t-”

“I talked to Prompto, Noctis. He… he told me everything.” Regis saw the exact moment Noctis realized he knew. 

His son, his precious child, drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, burying his face in the crook of his knees. “I’m sorry! I should’ve-I should have pushed you away, or fought, or something! And, and you were drunk, I should have said no, but I just thought-”

Ice flooded through Regis’ veins as he realized what his son was thinking. “Noctis, no!,” He said, louder than he had meant to. “No, please,” he tried, more softly this time, “Please don’t blame yourself, it’s not your fault, it’s all my fault. I’m the one that…. That did that to you. You did nothing to me at all, my child. Had I been in more control of my emotions, then… then this never would have happened.”

He could see Noctis’ shoulders shake with silent tears, and hell if his own eyes weren’t brimming over. And the worst of it was that there was nothing he could do to comfort his son except sit there in silence. 

“I know you can’t forgive me,” Regis assured, “I can’t forgive myself. But we need to talk about it or we’ll never move on. I’ve made an appointment with the family psychologist for tomorrow at noon. Would you like to come with me?”

Slowly, Noctis nodded, then pulled his head out of his knees to look at Regis with puffy eyes.

Regis got up, trying to ignore the way Noctis flinched when he did. So he smiled at his son. “I can’t  _ imagine _ what you must be going through right now. I’m glad you’ve been seeing a professional, and that you’ve confided in your friend. We’re going to find a way through this.”

With that, he turned to leave. Clarus swept after him but knew better than to pry into  Regis’ affairs. So when Regis finally made it to his own chambers and broke down again, the shield stood to the side and offered a comforting hand.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, this will get pretty dark. The rating will also eventually change to explicit as I explore what exactly happened to Noctis when his father did all that shit. So, be warned.


End file.
